


Devil's Advocate

by butyoumight



Series: Crossing Parallels [4]
Category: Green Day, The Beatles, The Network
Genre: AU, Crossing Parallels, M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-29
Updated: 2006-05-29
Packaged: 2017-10-16 20:02:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/168840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butyoumight/pseuds/butyoumight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>The drumming stopped abruptly.</i></p><p><i>"'ello, luv."</i></p><p><i>Tré could almost swear his heart stopped beating, or at the very least took up new residence in his throat. That was not Billie Joe.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Devil's Advocate

**Author's Note:**

> A sort-of interlude between _White Valentines_ and the as-of-yet-unwritten _And In The End..._

High tempo rhythm invaded Tré's ears as soon as he entered the studio. He tweaked one eyebrow as he navigated his way through the familiar labyrinth that was studio 880 in the dark. He wasn't entirely sure why Billie had demanded his presence at two am, but he was wholly more confused as to why Billie was playing his drums, and playing _Helter Skelter_ no less.

He called out Billie's name, but the drumming continued, apparently drowning out everything else the tiny frontman might hear.

Tré felt his way toward the panel of light switches, and flipped on the one he claimed as his own, the flood over the drum kit.

The drumming stopped abruptly.

"'ello, luv."

Tré could almost swear his heart stopped beating, or at the very least took up new residence in his throat. That was not Billie Joe.

Only three words managed to squeeze their way past the lump in Tré's throat.

"Oh my god."

"Ye' missed me."

Those same three words echoed hollowly in Tré's mouth as his hand reached reflexively for the ring on a chain around his neck.

"Oh. My. _God_."

Ringo stood from his perch at Tré's drum kit and crossed the floor to his long-removed lover.

"Stop gapin' and goin' on like that and gimme a snog."

Tré let himself get another quick gape in before Ringo reached him, grabbing his tie and pulling him close.

"I've bloody missed ye', Tré."

The first thing Tré noticed about this kiss was Ringo's new facial hair. The full compliment of beard and mustache was unfamiliar, but Tré didn't dwell. The mouth was the same, and slipped together with his, fitting perfectly, meant to be.

They separated after a moment; foreheads pressed together, Ringo running his fingers through Tré's newly blonde hair. Tré finally managed to articulate a few more words.

"What are you doing here? _How_?"

Ringo laughed, loud and long, an utter symphony to Tré's ears.

"I've got me ways, luv."

"I don't... Don't _understand_."

Ringo shook his head, moving one hand to press a single finger against Tré's lips.

"Understandin's not for love. I'm here, that's what matters. And we don't 'ave long."

Tré smiled, puckering his lips to kiss the pad of Ringo's finger.

"Fine." He wrapped his own hand around Ringo's wrist, lowering both of their hands and leaning forward to kiss him again.

"Let me show you how much I missed you, then."

They moved then in tandem, each setting his fingers upon the other's shirt buttons, frantically quick but still gentle, soft.

Ringo ran his hand along Tré's studded belt to the buckle, deftly unclasping the button beneath and lowering the zipper. Tré returned the favour one-handedly; the other reached behind himself to pull his ever-present condom from his back pocket before he lost his pants and better judgement to his swiftly growing passion.

It wasn't long before they stood, bare chests and thighs pressed together. Tré reached up, parting Ringo's long hair to thread his fingers in the stark streak of grey.

"I like it long."

"I like it blonde."

They moved in near silence after that, both attempting to bite back moans, both failing spectacularly, as the overwhelming sense of familiarity, rightness in the world overcame them both.

They came together, screaming one another's names until their throats protested, clinging to one another as if to never let go, slick with sweat. They curled against one another, panting as they fell into a post euphoric stupor.

Hidden in the sound room, those who orchestrated the cross-time meeting watched. Well, one watched.

"You're a filthy voyeur, you know that."

"They're done."

"You watched anyway."

"Of course."

The Snoo stood from the floor, wrapping his arms easily around Fink's waist and peering over his shoulder, down to the half-lit perfect-fit bodies on the floor of the studio, heaving with silent breath-regaining pants.

"Scary."

Fink folded his hands over The Snoo's arms, head tilted as he took in the tableau beneath them. "What?"

"How in love they are, and they've only met twice."

"I know."

The Snoo kissed Fink's cheek. "I love you."

"You know I love you too."

They looked out again.

"I think they're about asleep."

"Enough for us to get them apart." The Snoo squeezed Fink gently before pulling away. "I'll get Tré home safe. Take good care of Ringo."

Fink smiled. "I always do."


End file.
